


Neighbors Know My Name

by skarlatha



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Anal Sex, Bottom Rick, Dubiously Sanitary Food-Making, Enthusiastic Rimming, I Don't Think They're Ready For this Jelly, In a Kitchen, M/M, Rick In an Apron, Rick's Body IS Pretty Bootylicious, Strawberry Jelly - Freeform, Unsafe Kitchen Practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/skarlatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long summer and Daryl has finally dropped the kids off at Lori’s, and you know what that means--it’s business time at the Grimes-Dixon house. Except that Daryl gets home and Rick is… making jelly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neighbors Know My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MermaidSheenaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz/gifts).



> I do not encourage or condone fucking one’s spouse against a stove. That’s how you get a spot on _Sex Sent Me to the ER_. Don’t try this at home, kiddos. 
> 
> Special thank you to MaroonCamaro for advice on how to make jelly (although I’m sure it’s still wildly inaccurate because I took some liberties for sexiness), TWDObsessive for reading and offering much-needed feedback and cheerleading, and as always thank you for choosing Michelle_A_Emerlind for all your beta-ing needs. Title from the song of the same name by Trey Songz, because it is the cheesiest goddamn sex song ever and it just fits the tone of this fic so well. I’m not saying you should play it in the background while you read, but it would definitely improve the experience.
> 
> This fic is for MermaidSheenaz on the illustrious occasion of her birthday, because someone mentioned Rick getting chest hair in the jelly and she flipped out and started using all caps about how awesome that would be. So here you go, Sheenaz. Happy birthday, and enjoy!

Daryl loves Rick’s kids. He really does. Carl is a teenager now, and he’s a pretty cool cat considering that he’s fifteen and knows literally everything about the world (including, but not limited to, What Love Is, who ought to be elected president and why, how to achieve peace in the Middle East, and a rather detailed knowledge of Polish culture that Daryl suspects is due to his new online Polish-girl-who-is-just-a-friend-really-dad-ugh). And Judith is three and a half and just the most adorable little rosepetal Daryl’s ever seen, all bouncy curls and giggles, and so yeah. Daryl loves those kids like they’re his own, and the summer they’ve spent with him and Rick has been full of laughs and family picnics and memories that will last a lifetime.

What the summer hasn’t been full of, though, is Daryl’s dick in Rick’s ass. Or vice versa. Doesn’t matter much to Daryl which way it goes, as long as someone’s dick is inside of someone’s ass. And that hasn’t happened _nearly_ enough lately.  

Daryl loves the kids, but they are the worst little cockblocks in the universe. And usually that’s fine, but other than a couple of rushed, barely satisfactory handjobs before bedtime and one single spectacular quickie in the garage back in July… well, Daryl and Rick haven’t had a dry spell like this since they got together three years ago, and it’s grating on Daryl’s nerves.

And so as soon as he’s out of sight of Lori’s house after dropping the kids off to go back to the normal every-other-weekend schedule for the school year, he slams his foot down on the gas and hopes that there won’t be any cops on the way home, because he is on his way to his _man_. And Rick is going to get _fucked_.

Daryl doesn’t really care what’s going on when he gets to the house. If Rick is watching a movie, he’s getting thrown down on the couch. If he’s putting clothes in the wash, he’s getting railed on top of the dryer. If he’s out by the azaleas talking to the elderly woman who lives next door, well, little old Mrs. Crabtree is gonna get an eyeful right there in the front yard.

He makes one quick stop at a drugstore on the way home to buy a rather ambitious amount of lube and then he’s home, squealing tires as he pulls into the driveway. He doesn’t even bother putting the car in the garage because the door takes too long to open, so he just jogs to the front door, flings it open, and bellows, “ _Rick!_ ”

“Kitchen,” Rick calls, and Daryl throws his keys into the bowl by the door and heads for the kitchen, slipping into the predatory stalking gait that never fails to make Rick’s pupils dilate. He sheds his jacket like a too-tight skin on the way, letting the leather fall to the shining hardwood floor of the hallway, then rounds the corner into the kitchen and nearly comes in his pants at the sight before him.

Rick is standing in front of the stove, stirring a large pot of what smells like strawberries, and he’s wearing an apron.

And _only_ an apron.

Daryl’s mouth goes dry and his vision tunnels inward until there’s nothing else in the room except for Rick’s nearly-naked body, the strings of the apron tied just above the luscious curve of his ass like Rick has gift-wrapped himself for Daryl, and Jesus Christ even after three years Daryl can’t quite _believe_ that he gets to come home to this man. To love this man. To fuck this man’s brains out right here in the kitchen.

His hands are on the button of his pants before Rick even has a chance to react to his presence.

Rick turns and smiles at him, holding the spoon up in the air briefly. “Didn’t expect you to get back so soon. I’ll be done in just a few minutes and then we can…” He trails off, waggles his eyebrows at Daryl, does a flirty little hip movement that makes Daryl’s eyes snap right back to the apron strings hanging down the man’s perfect little ass cheeks.

Daryl grunts, and Rick must take that as agreement, because he turns back to the stove and goes back to stirring vigorously. Daryl, for his part, finishes undoing his pants and toes off his shoes and socks while he lets the sway of Rick’s hips just fucking hypnotize him.

“How were the kids? They give you any trouble?” Rick asks, his back still to Daryl.

Daryl whips his shirt off over his head and drops it to the travertine tile on the floor, then grabs the bottle of lube from his pants pocket before shoving his jeans and underwear down and stepping out of them. His cock bobs in the air, hard as marble and already straining for Rick. “They were fine,” he says, stepping forward and closing the distance between them. “Don’t want to talk about the kids right now.”

“Well, what _do_ you want to talk about?” Rick asks. He reaches up and adjusts the temperature of the burners, goes back to stirring. “Gotta find something to talk about for fifteen minutes while I finish making this je--”

He breaks off as Daryl’s arms slide around his waist from behind, hands slipping under the apron and splaying over Rick’s chest and abdomen. Daryl presses his body flush against Rick’s, letting his already-aching cock rub along the crease of Rick’s ass, and he kisses the back of Rick’s neck with lingering lips.

“Don’t give a fuck about the jelly,” he rumbles into Rick’s skin, hitching his hips forward and groaning at the smooth slide of skin on skin.

Rick arches his neck into Daryl’s mouth and lets out a long, happy sigh. “I have to get this done. Rosita and Abraham--”

“ _Fuck_ Rosita and Abraham,” Daryl insists. He runs one hand down Rick’s stomach and curls his fingers around Rick’s quickly-hardening cock.

Rick moans softly but gives Daryl’s hand a half-hearted swat with one hand while continuing to stir with the other. “You can wait fifteen minutes.”

Daryl moves his mouth to Rick’s ear and actually growls into it, animalistic and sex-rough, and Rick shivers. “Can’t wait,” Daryl murmurs. “Need you.”

“I have to stir--”

“Then stir,” Daryl says, and he slides down to his knees behind Rick, dragging kisses down his spine as he goes.

“Daryl!” Rick starts to turn, but Daryl grabs his hips and holds them steady.

“Been wantin’ this for _weeks_ ,” Daryl says, licking his lips as he lets his eyes trail over Rick’s skin, from the dimple at the small of his back all the way down to where he can just see the man’s balls hanging heavy between his legs. He leans forward and presses a kiss against the top of Rick’s ass-crack, then runs his tongue down the crease, teasing at the skin but not pressing deeper.

Rick whimpers and adjusts his stance for stability. Daryl chuckles and puts his hands on Rick’s ass, spreads his cheeks open and lets out a shuddering breath at the sight before him. He leans forward and slowly runs his tongue over Rick’s crack again, dipping just the tip of his tongue inside Rick’s body.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers, letting the hair on his chin tickle Rick’s sensitive skin.

Rick makes a noise that Daryl can’t quite identify and the sound of the wooden spoon scraping the bottom of the pot speeds up. Daryl chuckles and presses his lips against Rick’s pucker in what would be a very chaste kiss if it had been placed on Rick’s mouth. Rick moans loudly and arches his back. “Daryl--”

“Shh, baby,” Daryl murmurs into Rick’s body. “I’ll take care of you. You just keep on stirrin’.” He closes his eyes and licks again, pushing his tongue a little harder, breaching Rick’s entrance a little more.

“Can’t stir like this,” Rick gasps out, his breathing already fast and clipped.

Daryl chuckles again. “Try,” he says, and then he dives in, thrusting his tongue as far into Rick as it can go and sealing his lips around Rick’s hole. Rick lets out a hoarse shout and the stirring stops for a moment and then starts again, the rhythm choppy and uneven, as Daryl starts moving his lips and his tongue to turn the motion into a dirty French kiss, working Rick’s body open with spit and tongue, purring into Rick’s depths and dragging guttural, desperate noises from Rick’s throat as he goes.  

He knows that he can’t possibly reach Rick’s prostate with his tongue but that doesn’t stop him from putting forth his best effort anyway, pressing his mouth hard against Rick’s skin and wriggling his tongue as far in as it will go, managing to get just the tiniest bit farther than before, and maybe he _can’t_ reach the prostate like this but Rick is moaning like he has, throwing his head back and dropping the spoon onto the stovetop with a clatter as he braces his hands on the countertop on either side of the stove.

The kitchen fills with the smoky-sweet fragrance of burning strawberries and the gentle sound of boiling water mixed in with the unspeakably filthy wet slurping sounds of Daryl making love to Rick’s ass with his lips and his tongue, all with the soft overture of Rick’s quiet and not-so-quiet gasps and hitches of breath that sound like fucking symphonies in Daryl’s ears. He pulls back, using his thumbs to keep Rick spread open for him, and runs his tongue around the rim of Rick’s asshole before driving it back deep inside and curling it to lick at the smooth, hot passage there.

“Fuck me,” Rick begs, his voice rough and thoroughly wrecked as Daryl hums into his body, making a particularly obscene noise against his skin.

“Hmm,” Daryl murmurs as he pulls his tongue back out again. He nips at the newly beard-burned flesh of Rick’s ass cheek. “Say please, officer.”

Rick lets out a long, shaky breath. “Please. _Please_ , Daryl. Now.”

Daryl gives Rick’s loosened pucker one more open-mouthed kiss and then smacks Rick’s ass lightly. “Turn off the stove and lean over the counter.”

Rick does so with astonishing speed, switching off the burner and taking three steps to the side. He puts his elbows flat on the counter and has his ass pushed back and in position before Daryl can even get to his feet. Daryl laughs breathlessly and grabs for the bottle of lube, pouring a nice handful of it and stroking his own throbbing cock a few times to coat it thoroughly. He steps up behind Rick and reaches down again, pushing his fingers slowly inside Rick’s already-stretched entrance and searching for what his tongue just wasn’t long enough to reach.

He finds it, and Rick’s hips buck forward and he _yells_ Daryl’s name into the quiet kitchen. Daryl pumps his fingers into Rick’s hole several times, adding slick to the spit already there and intentionally dragging his fingers over Rick’s prostate, feeling electric shocks in his own body every time another strangled cry falls from Rick’s lips.  

Finally, when Rick’s breath is coming out in choked sobs and Daryl’s pretty sure he himself is dangerously close to exploding just from listening to the noises Rick is making, Daryl lets his fingers slip out and he adds a little more lube to his dick for good measure, then spreads Rick’s cheeks with his hands again and lines himself up at Rick’s entrance.

“Love you, Rick,” he says softly, then thrusts into Rick’s tight, wet heat, pushing in hard and fast and watching as Rick’s spine arches into a perfect curve, and he wraps his arms around Rick’s chest under the apron and pulls him up from the counter to press their bodies together. Rick moans wantonly and throws his head back to rest against Daryl’s broad shoulder, and Daryl turns his head and nips at Rick’s jaw, his throat, the sensitive spot just below his ear.

“Just a second,” Rick gasps, reaching back and looping his arm around Daryl’s neck to pull him closer. “I just need… just a second.”

“Whatever you need, baby,” Daryl purrs into Rick’s ear, making the other man shudder with want. He holds Rick against him, pressing his right hand against the left side of Rick’s chest, fingers splayed and possessive over Rick’s skin, and slides his other hand down over Rick’s abs and below, running his fingertips over the heated skin of Rick’s cock. “God, you’re so fuckin’ hot around me,” he whispers. “Squeezing my cock like a fuckin’ vice. How much have you missed me fucking you, Rick?”

Rick lets out a soft moan and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing desperately in Daryl’s peripheral vision. “Thought about it every day,” he says, breathing out the words like early morning mist. “ _Move_.”

Daryl pulls back just an inch or so and thrusts back forward experimentally. “Just once a day?”

Rick whimpers and pushes his ass backwards into Daryl, wriggling and chasing the pressure he needs. “All the time,” he corrects himself. “Daryl…”

“Tell me what you want,” Daryl whispers into Rick’s ear, then licks a stripe up around the curve of it and chuckles softly at the keening sound Rick makes at that.

“Fuck me,” Rick says, tightening his arm around Daryl’s neck and his ass around Daryl’s cock. “Please, baby. Quit playin’ around and _fuck_ me.”

Daryl groans at the increased pressure on his cock and at how desperate Rick sounds, how utterly wrecked, and he thinks to himself for the millionth time that he’s the luckiest man in the world, to have Rick Grimes in his arms. “I love you,” he says again, and then he pulls almost all the way out of Rick and thrusts back inside as hard as he can.

Rick yells Daryl’s name, arching his back like it’s an involuntary movement, bracing a good bit of his weight on the back of his head as it lays on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl puts his mouth on the side of Rick’s straining neck and sucks hard, working the skin so that it will leave a beautiful, dark bruise there, high enough that Rick won’t be able to hide it underneath his shirt collar, and then he licks at it as he starts up a rhythm, slow like lovemaking but hard like back-alley fucking, and it’s so goddamn good, so perfect, that Daryl is sure that neither of them will last long, if they survive this at all.

Rick rocks his hips to meet Daryl’s thrusts, letting little whimpers and gasps and profanities drip from his lips like hot summer rain, broken syllables like _yes_ and _please_ and _Daryl_ and _god_ , sounding like the last two are one and the same in this moment for him. Daryl wraps his fingers around Rick’s cock and starts stroking it, fumbling with the rhythm for a moment but then getting it all synchronized, and when the rhythms finally match, Daryl swears that he could come untouched just from the sounds he’s ripping from Rick’s throat. His dick throbs inside of Rick and it takes all his willpower to keep himself from finishing too soon.

“Gonna come in you,” he growls, lips still tracing the bruise on Rick’s neck, “so _fucking_ hard. Fill you up with it.” He flips the apron up, pulling Rick’s cock out from under it. “And you’re gonna come all over the kitchen cabinets, get ‘em filthy just like you. Just like us.”

“Yes,” Rick gasps, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. “God, I love you so much. Daryl…”

“I know what you need,” Daryl murmurs into Rick’s ear. “And I’ll give it to you.” He slides his other hand down from Rick’s chest and starts stroking Rick with both hands, moving one hand down every few strokes to fondle Rick’s balls. Rick’s whole body starts tensing up, singing under Daryl’s hands like a bowstring, and Daryl slows down, pulls back so far that he nearly slips out of Rick’s body. Rick sucks in a deep breath, his muscles so tight now that the veins in his neck are straining against his skin, and Daryl holds there for a moment, letting Rick hover just below the red line for as long as he can, then slams back in at the same time that he gives Rick’s cock a hard, decadent stroke with the twist of his wrist that he knows drives Rick crazy, and Rick absolutely _screams_ Daryl’s name and shatters against him, splashing the light oak wood of the cabinets with thick stripes of hot come.

Daryl fucks him through his orgasm, holding back his own until Rick sags against him, gasping for breath. Then, when Rick’s cock stops pulsing, he lets go of it and moves his hands to Rick’s hips, digging his fingers in there and holding him still while he pumps in once, twice, three times and comes with a full-body shudder, gasping out his release against Rick’s sweat-damp skin with an open mouth and shaking breaths. Rick moans again when Daryl starts to come and that just makes it even hotter, and Daryl shoves forward into Rick even more and comes for so fucking long that he feels like a teenager again.

It feels like hours before Rick lets out a breathless laugh and turns his head to meet Daryl’s eyes as best he can. “God, I needed that.”

Daryl grunts and kisses the mark he’s left on Rick’s neck quickly before slowly pulling out and turning Rick in his arms so they’re face-to-face. He backs Rick up a step so that he’s leaning against the counter, then pulls him in tight and holds on, burying his face in Rick’s neck for a moment while their racing heartbeats slow back to their normal pace, beating in unison like they always do.

“You okay?” Rick asks quietly, and Daryl lifts his head and smiles.

“Better’n I’ve been all summer,” he answers. Their lips meet without a thought, the kiss deep but unhurried, almost dream-like in its rhythm, and it’s a long time before they break apart.

Rick turns around and inspects the pot, scraping burnt strawberries from the bottom and frowning. “You really fucked up my jelly, you know.”

Daryl laughs and walks over to his discarded jeans, then shakes them out and pulls them back on. “Prob’ly got chest hair in it anyway. What were you thinkin’, tryin’ to make jelly in your birthday suit?”

Rick looks back at Daryl over his shoulder, his sky-blue eyes twinkling. “Was thinking maybe my man would come in the door and fuck me over the stove.”

Daryl grins. “Guess you got what you was waitin’ for, then.” He spins a chair out from under the breakfast table and sits down on it to watch Rick as he moves around the kitchen, dumping out the ruined strawberries, rinsing out the pot, and pulling out another carton to start slicing up. “Can you make me a special jar with some chest hair in it?” he asks after a moment.

Rick laughs a little. “Sure, darlin’. Whatever you want.”

“What I _want_ is to go down to the Super Value and buy a bunch of jars of jelly an’ just tell Rosita we made ‘em.” Daryl stretches in the chair, gazing at Rick’s beautiful ass and wishing he was seventeen again so he could get right back in it.

“Takes all the fun out of it, though,” Rick says. “And besides, we promised. Homemade jelly.”

“Didn’t promise you’d have ‘em done _today_ , though,” Daryl points out. “So we could just put them strawberries back in the fridge and adjourn to the bedroom for the rest of the day.”

“ _Behave yourself_ , Daryl Dixon,” Rick chides. “You just had me. You can give it an hour before you drag me off to the bedroom like a caveman.”

Daryl hums in acceptance, leaning back in the chair and just watching as Rick finishes chopping the strawberries and puts them in the pot again. He can wait until the jelly is done. After all, they have all day. They have the rest of their lives, come to think of it. So an hour really isn’t that long to wait.

But then Rick leans forward to turn the burner back on, and the light hits the back of his thigh just right to sparkle on a trickle of come making its lazy way down his leg.

Daryl’s pupils dilate and he growls, low and dangerous like a tiger scenting prey.

And he pounces.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://skarlatha.tumblr.com)!


End file.
